


Musings in the Conditional

by lily_lovely



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-25
Updated: 2009-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_lovely/pseuds/lily_lovely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should Topher have done?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musings in the Conditional

Topher sighs shakily, scribbling calculations on a sheet of paper, typing figures into the system anxiously.

It still doesn't work.

He had failed. He—the programming genius, the one who invented a way to remove _personalities_ and replace them, the man who had been courted by institutes and research centers across the country after he graduated from MIT—had gotten it wrong.

Somehow Alpha's memories and imprints hadn't left his brain. Somehow they hadn't been wiped clean...

...and somehow, he still can't figure out how it had happened.

All the readings stored on Alpha show no sign of the homicidal impulses that had struck out in such a surgical, grotesque fashion. There had been absolutley no indication that this would happen, and there's nothing left behind that retrospectively explains it.

No biochemical out puts, no F912 feeds, no...squiggly lines.

He should have _known_.

Topher pulls up Alpha's readings again, searching for a flaw that can't be found.

***  
Boyd looks around the agency. For something called an agency, it's surprisingly spacious and...pretty, really.

Practiced and suspicious eyes search for exits, look for ways to shoot down the giant staircases...

...and find blood stains on the walls.

A creepy sort of pretty, then.

The director smiles wanly at him, and nods toward a young, dazed-looking guy. "Topher can give you a tour of the facilities. I'm afraid I have urgent business to attend to. If you ever have need of me, you may visit my office."

Topher looks at Boyd in a way he can't quite comprehend.

That annoys him. He's used to always being able to read people.

He will have to watch him closely.

"Uh, okay. I'll show you where the Actives sleep, I guess."

"Who are the Actives?"

Topher's eyes take on a shadow, and Boyd recognizes _this_ look as grief. "They're mine," he says softly. "I make them."

***  
"So that's it. Don't think I missed anything."

"What about that office?" Boyd points, and Topher follows his finger. He shakes his head when he sees where he means.

"That's Dr. Saunders' office. She's not exactly—ready for visitors."

"Why not?"

Topher laughs, almost desperately. "She was one of the victims of the attacks. It left her...scarred."

"I'm guessing in more ways than one."

Boyd looks at Topher, and Topher sees something he thinks he recognizes.

Pain, maybe.

***  
"Topher, this is crazy. We can't send Echo on an engagement this risky. She'll be killed."

Topher runs a hand through his hair, and Boyd distractedly notices how _smooth_ Topher's hands are. Like they've never seen the sun.

Like he's never left the Dollhouse.

"Look, I know this is hard for you—it's hard for me, too! But we have to—"

"—focus on what needs to get done. Right. I've heard this before. Do you remember the last time you told me that? Echo came back so frightened that I had to _drag_ her into the elevator afterwards!"

Topher slams his hands down on the table, causing the monitors on it to rattle. "I _know_ that! I'm the one who had to watch while she shivered in the corner, begging me not to hurt her. I'm the one who had to watch while Claire put her on the chair, because she wouldn't let me touch her!"

"You know what? I don't think you know anything about this! You haven't had to tell someone—someone who _completely_ trusts you—that everything will be all right, after a man _raped_ her. You haven't had to listen as she tells you about things that she thinks she feels, and smile and agree with everything she says."

Boyd crosses his arms, staring at the ground with a clenched jaw. "You haven't felt like you would die for someone who you've never really met."

Topher seems to deflate, as all the anger rushes out of him. "You're right. Okay, I've never felt any of that. But you have, and-and you send her out there, too! This isn't just—you can't lay all the blame on me! We're _all_ a part of this. This is what you signed up for, so if you can't deal with that, you need to just...get out of here."

And even while Topher shouts these bitter words, he shakes so hard that Boyd thinks he's going to fall apart.

There's a pleading look on his face, one that begs Boyd to fix what's wrong. To get them both out of this place, to save everyone, to _make things right_.

And that leaves a funny taste in the back of his throat, because Boyd knows that he can't. There's nothing either of them can do, now. They've sold their souls into this hell, and they can never go back.

But he can't let Topher down—not when he's exposing his real face, reaching out his hand to him...

..._he can't let him down_.

***  
Topher knows that he's saying all sorts of things he probably shouldn't be saying. Now Boyd knows how weak he is—that he really does care about what he's doing to the Actives, that he doesn't know what he's doing, that he never signed up for frightened little girls and blood on his hands.

But Topher also knows that he isn't going to quit just because the guilt and the sleepless nights and the terror are getting worse. He isn't going to let his emotions stop him from doing what he has to.

_We have to focus on what needs to get done._

And now Boyd's walking towards him, briskly, purposefully. He doesn't know what's happening, but something in him relaxes, even as the rest of him is going to pieces.

Because the deepest part of him knows that he'll make everything okay. Boyd will take care of him.

_Do you trust me?_

_With my life._

Boyd smiles in that reassuring way, the one that makes him feel completely safe. He takes his hand, rubbing it with his thumb, and puts his other hand on his back to pull him closer, to stop the shaking he hadn't even noticed.

"Everything will be all right," he hears Boyd say, muffled through Boyd's chest.

Topher can feel his control over himself slipping away, can feel himself letting go of the permanent tension that keeps his nerves tight as wires.

He doesn't think he could do this with anyone else—if it were someone who didn't know about the Dollhouse, or didn't know Topher's feelings about it, or wasn't _Boyd_.

Even though he doesn't have to follow a script, he finds the words flowing naturally out of his mouth:

"Now that you're here."

***  
Boyd awakens with a start. Everything around him is wrong—he's not sure where he is—_this isn't right_.

Then his eyes get used to the dark, and he realizes he's in Topher's apartment. He relaxes, and lets himself lie back down under the sheets and loosen his taut muscles.

He looks over to his right, and the dim light streaming through the window into the Dollhouse reveals that Topher is still sleeping.

Boyd reaches tentative fingers over to gently stroke Topher's arm, remembering what had happened last night:

_"Why do you do it?" Boyd asks. "What made you invent this—this **thing**?"_

_Topher raises his hands, automatically becoming defensive, until Boyd slowly lowers them. _

_"I won't judge you, Topher. I just want to know." Boyd shifts their arms until he's clasping Topher's hands in his own. "You can trust me."_

_Topher looks at him, solemnly, wordlessly, and it seems like he's really never considered it until now. _

_"There's nothing else," he whispers, eyes filled with pain. "I...I don't have anything."_

_Boyd lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around him, and as he strokes his hair and lets him cry against his shoulder, he wonders what could have driven him to this._

_He wonders if it really matters._

Boyd feels Topher stir restlessly beneath his hand, and he quickly pulls it away.

He doesn't want to leave, but he certainly can't stay.

So he fumbles for a pen and paper in the dark, writes "I'm sorry" on it, and sticks it under Topher's elbow.

Boyd stares at his face, clouded with darkness and sorrow. It doesn't feel right to abandon him, to make him wake up alone, to force them both into going back to their lives like nothing happened—but there's nothing else he can do.

There can't be anything more than this.

...it just wouldn't work, as much as he wants it to.

He plants a soft kiss on Topher's forehead, and turns around to leave before he can wake up and run after him.

***  
Topher is awoken by the harsh blare of his alarm. He slams his hand down on it, and starts to blindly reach for the light, when he hears the crinkle of paper under his arm.

He flips the switch, and sees the apology scrawled in Boyd's loopy, slanted writing.

And now he remembers:

_Boyd is peeling off his sweater vest while he unzips his pants. There's a flurry of clothing through the air, until it's just them._

_Naked. True._

_...trusting._

_Topher almost wants to turn away, to laugh it off and forget about it. He feels so bare, so exposed._

_But then he sees the possessive, hungry way Boyd is looking at him, and soon all he wants is for him to put his hand right **there** again. _

_And then it's a struggle of movements until they collapse onto the bed. Their panting and grunting reminds Topher of an Animal Planet documentary about lion mating rituals, and he smiles against Boyd's throat._

_He thinks this could be perfect._

He stares at the paper in his hands, and shock crawls up into his stomach.

He should have expected this. He shouldn't have given Boyd—all this after a few conversations. He should have been warier, more careful—like he normally is.

But there's something about Boyd that makes him so easy to trust. That makes it so easy to forget the rules he'd set up in his head, to lose himself and then lose his heart.

Topher crumples the paper into a ball, throwing it across the room.

He should have _known_.


End file.
